Chapter 17: Truth Through Innocent Eyes

Afternoon light filled Emma's room as she arranged her art stuff like a little scientist. My girl was sorting pencils by color, getting her space ready like it was the biggest thing ever.

"Dad, wanna help me draw a picture?" she asked, still focusing on her pencils. "It's for Mom, but I want to get all the feels right."

"What kind of feels?" I asked, sitting next to her.

Emma grabbed a big paper and started drawing, real good for a five-year-old. "Sad and happy and scared, all together. Like when you really want something but you're worried it'll go away."

She drew three people—us, for sure—but something was up. Not like her old drawings where we were all smiling and holding hands. This one had feelings. Mom had tears, but also a tiny smile. Dad was reaching out, but unsure. And Emma in the middle, arms out, like she was holding us together.

"Wow, Emma, this is detailed. What made you want to draw like this?"

She stopped, pencil in the air. "Yesterday at school, Mrs. Patterson read us a story about a family that broke up but found each other. But everyone was happy right away when they got back together. That's not really how it goes, right?"

My daughter's words hit me hard. "What do you think about how it goes?"

"I think grown-ups have bigger feelings that take longer to get better. Like when I hurt my knee badly—the doctor fixed it, but it hurt for a long time, even after the bandage." Emma added to her drawing, shading in faces. "Mom's heart has a bandage on it that isn't ready to come off yet."

I just stared at this kid who knew more about feelings than most grown-ups. "How do you know so much about them, sweetie?"

"I watch people. And I listen when grown-ups think I'm not listening." Emma grabbed another pencil. "Also, I've been reading those brain books in Mom's office. She talks a lot about people."

"You've been reading those books?" I was shocked.

Emma nodded like it was no big deal. "The pictures help, and I get most of the words. I wanted to learn why some families stay and some don't, so I could help ours."

My five-year-old was doing her own study on families, trying to fix us with books. It was sweet and sad.

"What did you learn?"

"That love isn't always enough. You also need trust and talking and wanting the same things." She said it carefully, like she practiced. "I think you and Mom love each other, but you don't trust each other yet, and you don't talk very well."

She nailed it. "And wanting the same things?"

Emma smiled, happy to tell me what she learned. "That means wanting the same stuff for your life. Like, if one person wants to live in the city and the other wants a farm, that's not good. But you and Mom both want me to be happy and healthy, so that's one thing."

"You're right."

"The deal is, you want Mom to forgive you, but Mom wants you to prove you won't hurt her again. They're not bad, but they take time." Emma added to her drawing, making something like a road between Mom and Dad people. "So I thought I could help by being on the road while you both figure it out."

That road hit me hard. My daughter saw herself as the thing between us, taking the blame for our issues.

"Emma, you don't need to be a road between Mom and me. That's not your job."

"But I want to help," she said, quietly. "I'm why you're together again. If I didn't get hurt, you might not have met me."

She thought our family depended on her. It hurt my heart. "Honey, listen. You don't have to fix us. Just be five and let the grown-ups deal with stuff."

"But what if you leave again if I don't help?"

There it was—her worry. Emma was scared I'd go away if she didn't do her job.

"I promise, I'll never leave you again. Even if Mom and I live in different houses, even if we can't get married again, I'll always be your dad and I'll always want to be with you."

Emma checked my face. "Cross your heart and hope to die?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

She seemed okay and went back to her drawing. "Okay. But I still think you should know some stuff about Mom that might help you."

"Like what?"

"Like, she talks to your wedding picture when she thinks I'm not listening." My heart stopped. "It's in her box, but sometimes at night, she takes it out and talks to it like you're there."

Bella talked to our photo. The woman who said she was over me still did that.

"What does she say?"

Emma didn't want to tell me. "I don't think I should say everything, because it's Mom's stuff. But she asks in the picture why you left, and sometimes she says she misses the person you were."

The man I used to be. Not me now, but before pride messed everything up.

"Emma, do you think Mom could like the person I am now?"

She thought about it like a doctor. "I think Mom is scared to see who you are now because what if she likes you but you leave again? It's safer to like the picture because pictures can't hurt you."

This kid was amazing. She knew what Bella was doing better than anyone.

"You're really smart, you know that?"

"Thanks. But Dad, can I ask you something hard?"

"Sure."

Emma put her pencil down and looked at me. "Do you love Mom because of who she is now, or because of who she was before?"

It hit me hard. The same thing she said before, but more real. Did I love Bella now, or did I want what we had before?

"I love both," I said. "I loved her before, but I'm happy with who she is now. She's strong, smart, and sure. She's built her business, and she's made you this great person. I love all that."

Emma nodded. "Good. Because Mom likes who she is now. If you tried to change her, she wouldn't like it."

"I don't want to change her. I want to get to know her now and see if she can like me now."

"Have you gotten better?"

Another hard question. "I hope so. I've learned that being right isn't as good as being nice. I've learned that work doesn't matter if you don't have family. And I've learned that pride can make you lose everything."

Emma listened, then nodded. "Those are good. Mom learned too, like how to be strong when people hurt you, and how to make money so no one controls you, and how to raise me by herself even when she's sad."

She showed a picture of Bella's life that was amazing and sad. While I was learning about family first, Bella was learning to do it alone.

"Do you think we can put our stuff together to make a better family?"

"Maybe," Emma said. "But first you have to prove you learned, not just say it. Mom has to learn that it's okay to need others again, not just be strong."

My daughter just said what Bella and I needed to do. She knew better than us.

"Emma, how are you so wise?"

She smiled big. "I listen to everything, I think about it, and I ask Uncle Lucas when Mom's not around. He knows about grown-up feelings because he had to help Mom when she was sad."

Uncle Lucas. He'd been there for Bella, seeing her hurt and helping her get better. He knew her better than anyone.

"What does Uncle Lucas think of me being here?"